Stray Cat Swing
by Dr. Shibui
Summary: Post RFB songfic. The remaining Bebop crew reminisce about a certain lunkhead slacker, each in their own way. Complete!
1. Verse One: Jet Black

**Well, it's been an atrociously long absence and I hope all my readers will forgive me. I am prepared to resort to the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts' Crouch of the Wild Tiger to gain your forgiveness (which, for those of you who aren't **_**Ranma**_** savvy involves crying and begging). But the point is I've restored some semblance of order into my life and I'm back. I'll get to my **_**Good Omens **_**fic soon, I've a lot of ideas just screaming to be put on paper for that story. As for my **_**Avatar**_** fic, well, time will tell. For now I hope you'll accept this **_**Cowboy Bebop **_**fic that I finally got around to posting as both an apology and evidence that rumors of my demise had been grossly exaggerated. Read and enjoy!**

Upon its tilted axis, the blue planet turns ponderously. Deliberately. Relentlessly. It never stops for anyone or anything. Even the Gateway Disaster that shattered its moon couldn't cease Earth's imperfect spinning as she clumsily wobbled her way around Sol for another circuit. Planets are like that. Life is like that. The whole goddamn universe is like that.

Stray Cat Swing

(verse one) Jet Black

I take another drag from my cigarette, and sigh out a plume of smoke as I stare at the holo-monitor. It's been three months since _Big Shot _was cancelled (of course that's neither here nor there), so nowadays, I search for leads on new bounty-heads online, or through my contacts in the ISSP. Mug shots of murders, thieves, swindlers, and fugitives panned out across the flickering screen of light and colored spots that came together to form an image.

_Beau Billingslea. Two counts of assault and possession of narcotics. __W__9,000_

_Melissa Fahn. Fraud and digital piracy. __W__3,000._

_Ken Watanabe. Industrial espionage and embezzlement. __W__8,000._

_Damn smallfry._

I jerk my head from side to side in surprise before smiling ruefully and returning my attention to the monitor.

_Wendee Lee. Selling of stolen goods. __W__2,000._

My eye twitches.

_Yoko Kanno. Identity theft. __W__1,050._

I rub my forehead in hopes of banishing the migraine that threatened to form behind my eyes.

_Jack Sparrow. Impersonating a priest. __W__400._

"ALRIGHT! THAT DOES IT!" I shouted at the holo-monitor. Almost as an afterthought, I threw the half-empty can of _Pippi_གྲྭ through the image of the W400 bounty, only to have it sail harmlessly through the screen, empty its dark carbonated contents onto the floor, and bounce a few times before rolling to a stop.

After staring flatly at the mess I had made, I switched off the monitor, got up from the couch and went to the chamber that held my bonsai, resolving to clean it up after I had calmed down a bit. Faye was out for the evening - bar-hopping no doubt - so there was no one around to complain about the sticky floor.

_No one around._

I sigh again. After months of hopping around the Solar System with a slacker, a gambling addict, a teenage girl in serious need of some Ritalin, and a Welsh Corgi that "went" wherever it damn well pleased, even a fishing barge like the _Bebop_ could feel crowded.

But now that Ed and Ein weren't around to sow any more chaos, and Faye was usually out either tracking down bounty-heads, losing her share of the earnings at the tracks or the Galactic Lotto, or getting wasted at the nearest available bar, the ship seemed empty.

Before going to the bonsai chamber, I went to the bridge, activated the on-board DAP, made my mood music selection, and then headed toward my room, the deep, raspy voice of Louie Armstrong following my down the corridor.

_I see trees of green...red roses too_

_I see 'em bloom...for me and for you_

_And I think to myself...what a wonderful world_

I always liked that song. Sure it's more than two hundred years old. A real antique (but then so is Charlie Parker), and I've heard it performed by other more modern artists, but there was just something particular about the way ol' Satch performed it that struck a chord with me, and it just wasn't the same the way anyone else did it.

No matter what was going on in my life, I could just turn up the Satchmo and let his voice and trumpet carry me away.

_I see skies of blue...clouds of white_

_Bright blessed days...dark sacred nights_

_And I think to myself...what a wonderful world_

I seat myself on my stool, shears in hand, and I scrutinize all my pretty bonsai, determined to find some growth out of place, some branch in need of trimming, some flaw in need of mending. A problem in need of a solution.

_The colors of a rainbow...so pretty... in the sky_

_Are also on faces... of people... going by_

_I see friends shaking hands...sayin'... how do you do_

_They're really sayin'... I love you_

I could find nothing. Every branch was perfect. Anything I did would just be butchery. All I could do was sit back and hope that what they said about plants and good music was true. So much for finding an outlet for my frustration.

_I hear babies cry... I watch them grow_

_They'll learn much more... than I'll never know_

_And I think to myself... what a wonderful world_

With nothing else to do, with no problem to solve, my thoughts drifted as they often did to Spike while Satch played his trumpet through his song's intermission. I first met him three years ago now, just after the watch Alisa left behind finally stopped. I had just bought the _Bebop_ with my pension and got a deal on the _Hammerhead_ from an old colleague of mine from the force, and I was ready to make my living as a bounty hunter. My first mark was a murderer named Drake Dugan, a 12 thousand woolong bounty.

Maybe too big a fish for any other beginner, but I had fifteen years experience as an ISSP Detective under my belt. Besides, I was the Black Dog, from whom noone escapes. I tracked him to the 4 Vesta asteroid colony, where he frequented a bar called _Le Chanteuse_. Inside there were only three old guys playing poker - one of them inventing new profanities as he lost to the other two geezers - a lanky gentleman in a cheap suit, and a mop of dark greenish hair, passed out drunk over another table close to the bar, and the barkeep serving another scotch to my target.

I tried to be casual, but Dugan saw me enter, sized me up, and decided that I might give him trouble, so he made for the door, just as I made to grab my gun. That was when the lanky "drunk" shot up from the table, did a somersault over his chair back and landed a kick in Dugan's face, sending him sprawling into the jukebox which started playing Johnny Cash's _In the Jailhouse Now_. That was when he saw me with my Walther P99 and he decided that I was a threat. With a liquid motion right out of a Bruce Lee flick he disarmed me and sent my weapon sliding across the barroom floor.

In retrospect, maybe if I had talked it out with him things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. But when someone keeps throwing karate punches at you - most of which connect - it tends to get real old real fast. Besides, he looked pretty shady, so I had him pegged for Dugan's accomplice.

So Spike and I ended up having a no holds barred fistfight. He was no poser either; an experienced grappler. Of course, I'm no slouch either, but Spike was almost liquid when he fought hand-to-hand. He almost flowed between my punches. At we gave one another a decent thrashing before we noticed that 6 thousand woolongs was crawling for the door.

That when we clicked and tackled and cuffed the bastard. Six grand in the bag baby! Or so I thought before the barkeep billed us for the damages. That left five hundred between the two of us.

After that he took me out for drinks as a peace offering. That was the only time he would ever treat me. We really hit it off after that. Maybe it was the alcohol doing my thinking for me. Maybe we were just two lonely people drawn together by fate or some feng shui bullshit. But I think the real reason we got along so well was that we both believed a man's history was his own business. He didn't want to talk about his past? Fair enough, I didn't want to talk about mine.

It was an unspoken agreement between us, but those old detective instincts could never be completely turned off and I couldn't help noticing things about my partner.

For one he had sharp eyes. Much sharper than the average person's, indicating a false cybernetic eye; knowing Spike, it likely lost during a fight. Why he never drew that Jericho 941 of his during our initial fight, I'll never know, but I'm glad he didn't. He didn't miss often.

He was also a skilled thief, though he never took money, and he seemed to do it more so to entertain himself than for any other reason, and more often than not he returned everything he "borrowed".

I noticed these things and, for a while anyway, I never called him on it. Then he suddenly up and decided to search for info on Mao Yenrai, one of the most infamous Syndicate bosses in the Solar System. He was always reckless but he wasn't stupid. That meant he had some personal stake. So I started probing gently, and he casually deflected my questioning by confronting me about my arm. When I found out Mao had been assassinated in one of the mafia's eternal power struggles, I just flat out asked him. When he deflected again, I told him about my arm hoping that maybe he'd finally talk to me, but of course all I got in return was cocky, rueful smirk and a simple, "Let's just say, my past is finally catching up to me".

The same thing happened when he went searching for this Julia woman on Callisto. I had managed to deduce that he had some past connection with Mao and the Red Dragons and that when he tried to leave they set him up and he somehow got away. Julia was probably tied in there somehow but I was never able to figure out anything beyond that she had a hold on Spike that he could never shake. I know the feeling.

Finally, the night he left my ship for the last time, I looked at him and, though he still had that devil-may-care smirk fixed on his face, the look in his eye was different, like he had lost something. Something irreplaceable. And I knew. I knew his Julia was gone.

I cooked him a meager meal and we joked about the sad state of the _Bebop._ He told me an old fairy tale about an immortal cat that lost the one thing he cared about in all his lifetimes - a white female cat - and died, this time never to return. That was probably the closest thing I'd ever get to his life's story.

Then he made his usual smart ass remark, and we laughed. It was long ironic and mirthless, we just laughed for the sake of laughter. We laughed because we couldn't find any words to say. In the end all it was, was a delay tactic, to keep him from leaving for a long as possible. I think that was the first time we laughed together like that. And of course it was the last...

_The colors of a rainbow...so pretty... in the sky_

_Are there on the faces...of people...goin' by_

_I see friends shakin' hands...sayin'...how do you do_

_They're really sayin'..._

"_I..._" I whispered to noone. "_...love...you..._"

We weren't friends. At least not in the way most people would define the term. He did whatever the hell he wanted, came back whenever he needed something - which, more often than not, was to eat all _my_ food, sleep on _my_ couch, or watch _my_ satellite TV - and then left again, like a stray cat. But I trusted him - he was probably the only person in my life that never abused that trust - and he, in turn, trusted me. I don't know if that meant anything to him or not, but it meant a hell of a lot to me.

_I hear babies cry...I watch 'em grow_

_You know they're gonna learn_

_A whole lot more than I'll never know_

_And I think to myself... what a wonderful world_

"Yes, I think to myself..." I sang along softy. "What a wonderful world..."

_Ohhhh yeaaaaaaaaaah..._

Suddenly the _Bebop_'s engines activated, and the ship lurched, sending me sprawling to the deck.

"The hell?!"

I dashed to the bridge, rubbing my bruised ass as I went. I leapt into my seat in time to see that I was in a downward drift towards Earth. Frantically, I reached for the controls but realized how futile and useless that would be when I saw what was displayed on the monitor, the familiar image of a yellow, rosy-cheeked face grinning ear-to-ear.

"_Here! Here!_" cried the cheery voice of Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV over the scratchy static of the PA. "_Edward and Ein are here!_"

All I could do was fasten my restraints, brace myself for the inevitable turbulence and crash, and laugh out loud. Two of my strays had found their way back.

**SHE'S BAAAACK! LOL! I hope that song works for this story, I've always been a big Satchmo fan. Be on the lookout for the next verse featuring the always fabulous Faye Valentine! Until then R/R or I will abandon this fic! Shibui out! It's good to be back!**


	2. Verse Two: Faye Valentine

**Second verse, better (hopefully) than the first!**

Upon its tilted axis, the blue planet turns ponderously. Deliberately. Relentlessly. It never stops for anyone or anything. Even the Gateway Disaster that shattered its moon couldn't cease Earth's imperfect spinning as she clumsily wobbled her way around Sol for another circuit. Planets are like that. Life is like that. The whole goddamn universe is like that.

Stray Cat Swing

(verse two) Faye Valentine

The nicotine mist hung heavily in air and the pungent stink of stale alcohol permeated throughout the barroom. Friends laughed together as they shot pool and played cards. War buddies sat somberly together as they compared battle scars and raised their drinks to those who didn't make it. And lovers danced to the Garth Brooks song playing on the jukebox. I sat alone at my barstool staring into the dark nectar of my glass. I had already drank seven and a half. I was beginning to feel the buzz.

_Lunkhead! _I couldn't recall why at the time, but for some reason, that word made me want more to drink.

I sigh and down the rest of the contents in one audible gulp. An even eight now.

"Hey! Barkeep!" I call. "A'nuther Black Cossack onna rocks!"

"I think you've had enough," said the barkeeper.

"'M a'reddy sloshed," I slurred. "Wh't diffrnce ith won moar gonna make?"

"I _really_ think you've had enough," said the proprietor more sternly. "I'm callin' you a cab."

"Nob fer me!" I pleaded almost frantically. Pathetic. I was actually pleading. And I couldn't exactly place why. If the drink wasn't for me and who the hell was it for? "This 'un's nob fer _me!_" I insisted.

He raised his eyebrows at me, then nodded. I don't know if it was in understanding or resignation, but he went to fill up a glass of ice with dark fluid. That was when the Garth Brooks track on the jukebox ended and a new song started playing. A sad piano tune that gently fluttered from one corner of the barroom to another, before the melancholy voice of a woman began to sing:

_Been a fool, been a clown_

_Lost my way from up and down_

_And I know, yes I know_

_And I see it in your eyes_

_That you really weren't surprised at me at all_

_Not at all_

_And I know by your smile it's you_

I turned toward the jukebox and listened, some sense returning to my alcohol-addled brain. And my memories returned. Again.

Funny how that always seems to make me miserable.

_Don't care for me, don't cry_

_Let's say goodbye, Adieu._

_It's time to say goodbye, I know that in time_

_It will just fade away, it's time to say goodbye._

"One Black Cossack on the rocks," said the barkeep, sliding the drink in front of me. "This is the last one, understand? I'm calling you a cab, right now. Charlie's driving tonight, so you don't have to worry. He's a decent fella and a real gentleman." Then he, grabbed the ignition cylinder to the _Red Tail_. "You can come back for _this_ tomorrow."

I nodded absently as the music continued to play.

_I stand alone, and watch you fade away like clouds_

_High up in the sky_

_I'm strong and so cold_

_As I stand alone_

_Goodbye, So long, Adieu._

_Lunkhead, _I think to myself again. _You stupid,__** stupid**__ lunkhead!_

_Oh how I love you so, lost in those memories _

_And now you've gone_

_I feel the pain, feeling like a fool, Adieu_

I still see him, when I sleep. When I daydream. When I close my eyes. I see his smart-ass smirk, that unruly mop of greenish hair, and his eyes. _Those eyes!_ I see him as clearly as I did the night he left.

_Sooner or later, _I think bitterly. _Everyone leaves._

_My love for you burns deep_

_Inside me, so strong_

_Embers of times we had_

_And now here I stand lost in a memory_

_I see your face and smile._

_What the hell's the matter with me? _I demanded of myself. _This isn't me! I don't go all dismal over some __**guy**__. Whitney should've cured me of that_. But every time I think of...of..._that lunkhead... _

_He made his decision, _I rationalize. Clearly there was nothing I could've done to change his mind. There was nothing aboard the _Bebop _that was important enough for him to stay for. Clearly he'd rather go off and get himself killed than spend another moment aboard that crap-box ship...with me.

The unhappy woman had stopped singing and the piano had taken over, it's soft notes trickling through the smokey air.

You'd think the people I'd be most angry at would be Vicious and Julia. I knew that Vicious had to be involved somehow. No one ever got to the lunkhead like he did. I had only met him face to face once - an experience I hope never to repeat - but it was plain to see that he was a man who had frozen all his emotions dead inside him.

A creature without pity or remorse.

In short, a man who had become a demon.

_His_ demon.

And Julia...Julia.

If Vicious had been his demon, then surely the golden-haired woman was his angel.

His lady.

His other half.

His entire freakin' universe.

When I had first heard the name on Callisto, I had imagined that she was very beautiful. She'd have to be to ensnare him the way she had. But when I finally met her face to face, all my imaginings fell woefully short of the reality. She wasn't beautiful. She was ordinary in a way that made her gorgeous.

She possessed the type of beauty that could break your heart with a glance and put it back together with a smile. It's no wonder that..._that lunkhead_...couldn't leave her alone. You could never get over someone like that.

No I wasn't angry at Julia. I wasn't even angry at Vicious. They played their parts, true, but for whatever reason, all my anger, bitterness, and loneliness was fixated on Spike.

Spike. A strange man who smirked carelessly as I systematically cheated him at cards.

Spike. An obnoxious roommate who ate more than his fare share of food, hogged the couch and TV, and kept all the juicy bounty tips to himself until the last minute.

Spike. A mysterious person who came to my rescue - well, not specifically. He made it clear that he had a personal stake in that affair - and got his ass turned into Swiss Cheese before getting thrown from the balcony of a condemned Martian cathedral, which then exploded.

Spike. A reckless lunkhead, who didn't seem to care weather he lived or died and just kept throwing himself into life-threatening situations.

Spike.

I still think about the night he left for the last time.

He and Jet ate and talked and laughed. It was strained, almost forced. I couldn't tell if they were friends or just two people who were thrown together in this mess known as the universe and were making the best of it. Friends told each other everything, didn't they? But Jet didn't know much more about Spike than I did.

Then Spike told him some nonsense about a stray cat followed by one of his off color comments and they started laughing. I've never heard a sound more full of sadness than that laughter. It made me want to break down and cry.

Then Spike got up to leave and Jet asked, "Is it for the woman?"

He didn't need to say which woman he meant.

"She's dead, Jet," he said simply. "There's nothing I can do for her now."

Then he began to leave. Just like that he was going to leave. Without any reason he was leaving us. Leaving me.

As he stepped through the portal I cocked my Glock 30 and pointed it at his face.

"Where are you going?" I demanded, surprised at how steady my voice was. "_Why_ are you going? You told me once to forget the past, 'cause it doesn't matter..."

I lower my gun for a moment my resolve beginning to falter. But then I defiantly raise it once more. I wasn't going to let this hypocrite walk out of here. No matter what. "But you're the one still tied to the past, Spike!"

He only looked at me for a moment. It was the most serious look I've ever seen on him. I didn't think he could ever take anything seriously. Then he leaned forward and for a fleeting moment I thought he was going to kiss me. But he stopped just inches from my face and said, "Look into my eyes Faye."

I grudgingly obliged, and I saw that the colors were mismatched, the left one had a brighter tint to it that the right. Upon closer inspection I saw the inner working of cybernetic machinery.

"One of them's a fake 'cause I lost it in an accident," he said. "Since then, I've been seeing the past in one eye, and the present in the other. So I thought I can only see patches of reality, never the whole picture."

"Don't tell me things like that," I said, my voice wavering a little. I'd never been so close to him before. "You've never told me anything about yourself. So don't start now."

"I felt like I was watching a dream I'd never wake up from," he continued, ignoring my protests. "Before I knew it, the dream was all over." Then he pulled away and brushed past me as he made his way to the _Bebop's_ hangar, the _Swordfish_, Vicious, and death.

I knew what he was doing. He knew he was leaving never to return, so he wanted to leave something of himself behind. Who knew he was so sentimental? I had to say something. Anything. If only to prolong the evitable. If only to keep him from leaving just a little longer.

"My memory..." I began hesitantly, "finally came back."

He didn't turn around but he paused, and waited expectantly. So I continued.

"But, nothing good came out of it. There was no place I could return to. This was the only place I could go." Then my voice became further as the hurt and anger welled up within my stomach, begging for release. "And now you're leaving, just like that!"

I felt myself becoming more and more hysterical, but I didn't care. I wanted him to hear this. I needed him to understand that we needed him. That _I_ needed him.

"Why do you have to go?"

Why? Julia was dead. You had no ties to the Syndicate anymore. You wanted to walk away from all that so why didn't you?

"Where are you going?"

A stupid question looking back on it now. He was going to face his archnemesis in a no-holds-barred, melodramatic, duel to the death.

"What are you going to do? Just throw your life away like it was nothing?!"

That was that. I'd run out of steam. I stared at him imploringly and he just looked back.

Then that smirk, that stupid, cocky, familiar, devil-may-care smirk spread across his lips, as he said, "I'm not going there to die...I going to find out if I'm really alive."

He kept smiling, but his eyes had this almost pleading look to them, like _he_ needed _me_ to understand.

"I have to do it, Faye."

Then he turned on his heel and walked towards the hangar and out of my life, but I didn't let him go quietly.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Five shots. Five more holes in the _Bebop _to add to it's already abundant collection. And Spike vanished from view.

That was when the tears came and I couldn't hold them back anymore. I'm not sure I wanted to.

_Oh how I love you so, lost in those memories_

_And now you've gone_

_I feel the pain, feeling like a fool, Adieu_

I had one shot left in my Glock, and I was seriously considering using it when Jet came across me, slumped on the floor, cradling it in my hands, the mascara running down my cheeks. He probably guessed what I was thinking of doing, so he limped over my way, gently took the gun from my unresponsive hands and told me to get some sleep.

Too drained and exhausted to do otherwise, I complied and made my way to my room.

_My love for you burns deep_

_Inside me so strong_

_Embers of times we had_

_And now here I stand lost in a memory_

_I see your face and smile._

Then the song ended and was replaced by Johnny Cash's "Walk the Line", when the barkeep tapped my shoulder.

"Your chariot awaits my lady," he said in what was either sarcasm or a sorry attempt at humor, I was too toasted to tell. Then he frowned,"You haven't touched your drink."

"Uh..." was my intelligent response.

You'd thin everything would've changed aboard the Bebop with Ed, the mutt and...Spike...gone but as they say, the more things change the more they stay the same. Jet and I remained partners. He searched for bounties, I catch them. He spends his share on maintenance, laundry, and groceries; I spend mine gambling and shopping, or - when the mood hits me - drinking, much to the old guy's great displeasure.

I'd never admit this to anyone, but I needed him and, in some obscure way I think he need me. He still scolds me for being a freeloader and a professional pain in the ass, but there's something almost paternal in the way he does it.

And I am a pain in the ass.

I'm honest enough with myself to know that.

But in spite of that, Jet tolerated my presence. And he really is just a big teddy bear once you get to know him.

People need people. I didn't believe that at first, a young woman in a strange world where nothing made sense, deceived, swindled, and just plain screwed (figuratively speaking) at every turn. After all that, I thought the best way to survive in such a world was to be totally independent, never grow attached to anyone, never get anchored to one place, and, most importantly, never fall in love.

Then I met two bounty hunters, a crazy girl, and a mutt, who shattered my whole world view.

Jet needs me so I stayed.

I need Jet, so he lets me stay.

We both need Spike, but he's gone, so we both tried to fill the void for the other the best we could.

I took hold of my drink. The ice had melted inside and the glass was slick with condensation. It was going to taste terrible.

I raised it over my head and slurred, "'Ere's to you, Spike."

Then I downed it in one gulp and grimaced as I made for the exit and the waiting cab.

"Old boyfriend?" inquired the barkeep?

I smiled ruefully, "Nob ebbin' close."

"**Adieu" is actually a part of the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack and, although this song is about Julia, I thought it fit Faye's feelings of sadness and abandonment quite nicely. Hope that was the case. Be on the lookout for verse 3 when Ed and Ein pay their respects to the fallen cowboy in their own zany way and drag the rest of the crew along for the ride. As always R/R. Shibui out!**


	3. Verse Three: Ed and Ein

**Shout outs to syverasazyn and danicadoodles. Took a while to find a song that was suited for Ed's personality and at the same time properly payed her respects to Spike. After much debate I finally settled on Monty Python's "Bright Side of Life" from **_**Life of Brian**_**. Please read and enjoy!**

Upon its tilted axis, the blue planet turns ponderously. Deliberately. Relentlessly. It never stops for anyone or anything. Even the Gateway Disaster that shattered its moon couldn't cease Earth's imperfect spinning as she clumsily wobbled her way around Sol for another circuit. Planets are like that. Life is like that. The whole goddamn universe is like that.

(verse three) Ed and Ein

When Edward crashed the Bebop off the coast of the former Republic of Singapore, Jet was, understandably, a little upset.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Dammit! I just fixed that!"

"AAAH! MY BONSAI!"

Alright, he was _very_ upset, but, just the same, after he recovered from the initial shock that usually accompanied Edward's antics that resulted in general disarray aboard his fishing barge, Jet heaved a deep sigh and went about preparing a meal. It wasn't much really, just some spam in a can. But for a dog that had to live off of dirt, bugs, and the odd egg here and there that Edward's estranged father had managed to misplace (what a day that was!) it was tastebud nirvana.

I also found it quite touching that Jet had kept my supper dish. I had honestly thought he'd have thrown it out, or perhaps attempt to sell it. Instead I saw that it held a place of prominence amongst the paper plates and tupperware in the pantry. In spite of myself, I felt a warm wave of affection for the big man wash over me, and I had to fight the urge to jump up and down like a puppy, though I did wag my behind for his benefit.

Edward squealed her delight when Jet presented her with a Styrofoam cup of noodles, which she promptly devoured - cup and all despite Jet's misgivings - and the middle-aged man sighed and stifled a grin.

Faye's return was an event. She lurched into the Bebop the next morning, stinking of booze and suffering from a well-earned hangover. You could imagine her reaction when I was there to greet her in the common room with my high-pitch series of "yips".

"What the hell is this thing doing back here?!"

I could sense her discomfort, and how little I cared. I continued to bark as she rubbed her temples.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"Well, look what Ein dragged in," chuckled Jet, leaning against the archway that led to the kitchen and taking a drag from his cigarette as he peered at the disheveled Faye through his "cooking shades".

"If I were him, though," he smirked. "I'd have thrown you back."

"Go to hell, Jet," moaned Faye, trying in vain to banish what was no doubt a migraine. Then her bloodshot green eyes widened in realization. "Wait. If the mutt's here...then that means..."

She never finished that sentence, as she was cut short by a red blur that shrieked in unadulterated glee, "FAYE-FAYE!"

To her credit, Faye managed to refrain from strangling Edward, as the girl threw her skinny arms around her and buried her face into her considerable cleavage.

"Good... to see... you too... Ed," she gritted, her left eye twitching a bit.

"Fay-Faye!" was Edward's giggled reply, and the corners of the Faye's mouth quirked a bit in what might have been genuine affection.

Then Ed pulled away and looked at Faye. Then at Jet. Then at me. Then back again.

"Where be the Spike-Person?"

There was a silence, and I could smell the awkward-gauge indicating dangerous levels of taboo, meaning that Ed had stumbled into a line of questioning that had become forbidden aboard the Bebop.

"He's..." began Faye, before Jet cut her off, "...gone."

And that was that.

I never understood humans' need to conceal their true feelings. When they're angry, they keep it bottled up to the point of explosion. When they're sad, they wallow in self-pity until somebody takes notice - which, more often than not, doesn't happen - and they often end up leaping off a building or something. And when they're happy...well, that's really the problem right there isn't it?

They're never happy.

It's for this reason, amongst many, many others, that I thank my lucky stars that I was born a dog. We have no compunctions about showing our true feelings, we wear our emotions on our sleeves...so to speak. When we're mad, we growl. When we're sad, we whimper. When we're happy, we wag our tails and bark.

People sigh and think to themselves, "Ah, if only it could be so easy". The reality of it is, it can, people just make it too complicated for themselves, which is silly when you really think about it.

It's for this reason that I decided to follow after Edward when she left chasing after her father, and, when his trail went cold, stuck with her through her endless wanderings across Earth's scarred terrain, and finally back onto the Bebop.

It's not just that she's the closest to my intellectual equal, but also because, out of the entire Bebop crew, she is the most dog-like. And not because she has the least amount of baggage - she has her fair share - dead-beat dad being the least of them.

But she is also utterly without guile, which most people find a little off-putting. She does whatever she wants, wherever she wants, just like a stray. Because of this most people dismiss her as crazy. But really - deep down - they're envious, because she has freed herself of the collars and leashes that mankind had put upon itself.

With Edward, what you see is what you get, so her reaction was of no surprise to me.

She cocked her head to the side in that inquisitive cat-like manner and queried, "Spi-Spi gone bye-bye?"

"Yup," said Faye with feigned joviality. "Went chasing after what's-her-face and hasn't been back since. Just like a lunkhead to go chasing an old flame." Her mask of nonchalance faltered a bit before she sighed, and declared, "I need a shower." With that she turned on her heel and made for the stairs with an air of practiced unconcern, but I saw tears forming at the rims of her eyelids. Solemnly, wordlessly, Jet turned and slipped back into the kitchen.

Then Edward, lowered her goggles over her eyes, silently popped open her laptop and began typing.

I went to my little bed - which incidently, Jet had also kept - curled up and tried to go to sleep, which was difficult because I couldn't stop thinking - the curse of the data dog I'm afraid. In this instance, I thought about Spike.

To be honest, we didn't like each other very much. In fact, not long after we first met, I bit him. I didn't give him a courtesy growl or anything, I just bit him. He disliked dogs, cats, and animals in general, and I dislike people who dislike me. Nothing personal. I'm sure they're actually nice enough if one can get around their personality, it's just nature. For the most part, we avoided one another, which seemed the best way to keep peace between us.

No, I didn't like him, but I did respect him. Despite all his misgivings about pets on the Bebop, he went out of his way, blowing a big bounty head in the process, to save my life, and gave me a home besides. My love and loyalty belongs now and always to Edward, but if catching a plummeting canine on the heat-shield of your spaceship doesn't earn a dog's undying respect, I don't know what does.

Spike always seemed to be on the hunt for something, I'll probably never know what. Behind his smart-ass smirk and his festering nihilism, his eyes had this roving, searching look to them, like a lost or abandoned dog.

My eyes fluttered shut and I allowed Ed's typing to lull me into slumber. I don't know what you were searching for Spike, but I can honestly say, I hope you find it.

Farewell.

- - -

"_And our top story today..."_ Electra Ovilo stared vacantly at the holo-monitor as the CBC anchorman droned on and on about another outbreak of violence on Titan. She had been discharged from the service since what has become known as the Rainy Halloween Incident, following a psychological reevaluation. She was now in the Alpha City Police Department and was currently in the process of taking the detective's exam for the ISSP.

She glared resentfully at the now empty Hagen-Daas ice-cream carton, and carelessly tossed it aside.

_He remembered me_, she thought dismally to herself. _Oh God! He remembered me!_

Vincent.

Her comrade.

Her lover.

Her enemy.

Her soul mate.

She had killed him.

She thought that he would kill her too, but his memory returned to save her and doom him. It was because she couldn't shake the guilt that she was discharged, and it was because she wanted to do something worthwhile to make up for it that she sought to become an ISSP Detective.

But she couldn't forget his eyes...

Suddenly the screen went snowy and the anchorman's droning voice became garbled with static before the holo-screen became blank.

- - -

Meanwhile, the CBC News Headquarters was in an uproar.

"What the hell happened to our feed?!" roared the producer.

"W-we're trying to find out sir!" stammered the panicked intern.

"Don't_ try_," growled the producer menacingly, his face turning various shades of red. "_Do it! _I swear, heads are going to roll when I find out who's responsible for this!"

"Sir!" called the director. "I think we've been hacked!"

"WHAT?!"

"And it's not just us," continued the director. "Every studio and satellite is being hijacked by a pirate broadcast!"

"What the hell is going on?!"

- - -

Electra stared curiously for a moment before a round yellow face suddenly dominated the screen with a wide cheshire-grin.

"_Hey! Hey!"_ came a voice that sounded like a child's. _"Is now time-time for Spike-Person's Big Bye-bye!"_

"Spike-Person?" whispered Electra. "That can't be..."

With that piano music began to play and a British man began to speak earnestly:

_Some things in life are bad,_

_They can really make you mad,_

_Other things just make you swear and curse,_

_When you're chewing life's gristle,_

_Don't grumble,_

_Give a whistle_

_And this'll help things turn out for the best._

- - -

"What the hell's wrong with the damn TV Carlos?" demanded Antonio. He and his buddies, Carlos and Jobim were playing cards and watching the game at the local bar when suddenly the broadcast was interrupted. Now all they saw was a goofy smiley face on the screen.

"I think it's one o' them newfangled music videos," Carlos answered, giving the antique televison another smart whack.

"I remember when I was asked to be in video by Jennifer Lopez," said Jobim dreamily.

"You were an embryo twenty years after J-Lo faked her way to the top you senile old fart!" growled Antonio. "Son of a bitch! I had money on that game! Change the channel! Quick!"

The other bar patrons voiced their agreement.

"No good," Carlos said. "It's on every channel!"

That was when the Englishman began to sing and whistle:

_And..._

_Always look on the bright side of life._

_Always look on the light side of life._

_If life seems jolly rotten,_

_There's something you've forgotten,_

_And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing._

_When you're feeling in the dumps,_

_Don't be silly chumps._

_Just purse your lips and whistle._

_That's the thing._

_And..._

_Always look on the bright side of life._

- - -

In a Venusian hospital, Stella Bonnaro listened to the broadcast and smiled as more voices joined with the Englishman. The song reminded her of her late brother, Rocco. He was always so upbeat and laughed easy, even when things were tough. For some reason, it also made her think of his strange friend who came to visit her. She smiled and began to whistle along to the song.

- - -

_Always look on the right side of life._

- - -

Judy, hummed along to the song and snuggled close to her husband.

- - -

Alfredo sang along with his mother.

- - -

_For life is quite absurd_

_And death's the final word._

_You must always face the curtain with a bow._

_Forget about your sin._

_Give the audience a grin._

_Enjoy it. It's your last chance anyhow._

_So..._

_Always look on the bright side of death._

- - -

Samurai Andy, astride his faithful horse, bowed in solemn respect for a worthy fallen foe while remaining oblivious to the three-car pile-up and traffic-jam he had caused on the Venusian highway . But only for a moment, as he began whistling as well.

- - -

_Just before you draw your terminal breath._

- - -

Somewhere in the barren Martian Desert, Laughing Bull listened to the distant music, smiled, and began to whistle.

- - -

_Life's a piece of shit,_

_When you look at it_

_Life's a laugh and death's a joke it's true._

_You'll see it's all a show._

_Keep 'em laughing as you go._

_Just remember that the last laugh is on you._

_And..._

_- - -_

"_Always look on the bright side of life..._" sang Antonio, Carlos, and Jobim as they whistled, danced and laughed along to the music, the game they had bet upon forgotten, as the rest of the bar lent their voices to the song.

- - -

"_Always look on the right side of life..._" smiled Electra as she too began to whistle.

- - -

"_Come on guys cheer up!"_

- - -

"_Always look on the bright side of life..._" sang Samurai Andy.

- - -

"_Always look on the bright side of life..._" sang Stella.

- - -

"_Worse things happen at sea you know."_

- - -

"_Always look on the bright side of life..._" rumbled Laughing Bull.

- - -

"_I mean what have you got to loose? You know you come from nothing, you go back to nothing. What have you lost? Nothing!"_

_Always look on the right side of life..._

- - -

Silence in the CBC Headquarters.

Finally the producer ventured, "Is...is it over?"

"We still don't have a feed," said the intern timorously.

"Sir!" called the director who was crowding with the anchorman, weather woman, and sports caster around a little monitor. "You should come see this!"

"What is it?"

"The satellites are behaving strangely."

"Is it an attack?"

Several gasps issued through the studio at the prospect.

"No they're just...rearranging themselves..."

"Into what?"

"I think it's spelling out something...'Bye-bye Spike'."

"The hell does that mean?"

- - -

The incident was investigated, covered ad nauseam by the news media, and finally dismissed as a Net Diver's prank. Whispers of the return of Radical Ed rippled through the populace for a while, but eventually even they fell silent.

But no one could forget that, if only for a moment, they were all able to look on the bright side of life.

**Only one more to go! R/R plz and be on the look out for the Epilogue! Shibui out!**


	4. Epilogue: Refrain

**Whew! Finally finished, my tribute to one of the greatest anime shows of all time! I just want to say that I love Spike's remembered exchange with Julia. I wanted it to somewhat parallel his love/hate relationship with Faye and I think I accomplished that quite nicely here. Kudos to me! :D The one thing I'm not so sure of is the song I chose to go with this chap, but of course that can be said for the rest of this fic. I just wanted something that was both parts sad and romantic since this is Spike and Julia we're dealing with here and **_**Death Cab for Cutie's**_** song seemed to fit those criteria to a tee. As always your opinions matter to me so don't hold back and tell me your thoughts. Shout outs to syverasazyn, abthetis, and Camotecue, and to all my other readers, thank you for your support and kind words. Last one now, hope you enjoy it.**

I gingerly stumble down the steps, my right arm hanging uselessly to my side, as I use my left to try and stay the flow of blood seeping from the wound in my stomach. I'm still moving and Vicious is laying in a pool of his own blood. Guess that means I won.

Whoop-de-fuckin'-doo for me!

_I saw myself laying on the operating table as they installed my new eye. I scream as the nanofibers connect with the nerve tissue..._

My vision's blurring in my right eye, but my false left one was still working - in a manner of speaking.

They say that just before you die events of the life you lived flash before your eyes, like a slide show of that annoying neighbor's vacation photos that he insists on showing to all of his pretend friends. I suppose it's more comforting than telling people the last thing your body does before death is shit itself.

_I see the Carlini's gang filing into the alley as I mowed them down with my Jericho 941. Vicious is at my back clearing a path for our escape with his twin Smith & Wessons. He always has my back..._

But for me that thing about my life flashing before my eyes wasn't a euphemism. A weird glitch in the prosthetic eye's system made it replay visions of events that happened yesterday, a week ago, three months, or even years ago. Nothing before I lost my eye in that gun fight a few years back, so at least I won't have to suffer through my awkward teen phase again.

_In a smokey barroom Vicious and I are playing pool and someone changes the jukebox setting from my Bob Dylan to some crappy-assed alternative record. I looked up from where I had scratched the green felt of the table and very politely called over my shoulder, "Hey asshole, I was listening to that."_

"_And now you're listening to this," came a woman's candid voice. "Deal with it."_

"_It was right in the middle of the damn song!" I protested. "You can't change it right in the middle!"_

"_Sorry," sneered the bitch. "Maybe next time you'll put up a 'Reserved for the Princess' sign so people will know better."_

_Vicious was trying to say something, but either the crappy music was too goddamn loud or I was too pissed off to listen. I hefted my pool cue, considering shoving it up a particular orifice, and turned to have a very calm conversation regarding barroom/jukebox etiquette with a woman who was obviously unfamiliar with such concepts. That was when I saw her._

_Wrapped in a studded leather jacket, with matching pants that were __**way**__ too tight, was a woman with cascading golden hair, sucking on a cigarette, and watching the record spin inside the jukebox as the music played for her._

_She must have felt my stare because she turned around and fixed me with those big blue eyes that you could dive into._

"_As I was saying, Spike," grated Vicious, smiling wolfishly. I didn't even notice him move from the other side of the pool table to slip a familiar arm around the blonde's waist, I was too busy staring at those eyes. "This is Julia, the girl I was telling you about. Julia, this is my partner, Spike Spiegel."_

"_You mean the guy that shot up Carlini's crew and blew up a barber shop?" smirked Julia..._

I see the syndicate members staring up at me expectantly. Waiting.

_I'm losing too much blood._

_Carlini's boys were waiting for me. _

_Someone set me up. _

_Who?_

_Gotta keep moving. _

_Where was I? Which way was headquarters again? Was I even in Red Dragon territory anymore?_

_Gotta keep moving. _

_Something familiar about this street. Why do I remember this street?_

_Gottakeepmovinggottakeepmovinggottakeepmoving..._

_Street light..._

_Door opening..._

_Golden hair..._

I don't know what they're expecting.

It's not like I'm gonna leap into the air and fly away like Keanu Reeves in that one movie that was so popular in Earth's heyday. What was it called? Ah well, Keanu sucked anyway.

What are they all standing around for?

_I hear humming. A low contralto voice._

_I open my eyes._

_I was laying in a lumpy bed, covered in bandages and there wasn't an area on my body that didn't ache._

_Well, I was expecting to be laying in a casket, or a morgue, so I suppose it all evens out._

_That melody..._

_I look to my side and I see Julia, seated in a chair beside the bed, reading and humming to herself. She was in a simple conservative green dress with a plain white apron draped over it. Was this really the same leather-wrapped biker babe with the bitchy attitude that Vicious had introduced me to?_

_It was the same cappy-assed song she was listening to that night at the bar..._

_Suddenly the humming ceased and Julia gasped when she noticed that I was awake. She got up from her chair and leaned over me, blue eyes that were always so cold, now overflowing with concern._

"_That song..." I wheezed weakly. "Would you sing for me?"_

_She hesitated, obviously taken aback by both my request and my ability to even voice it, than smiled gently. Then she began to sing that song - that damn, crappy-assed piece of musical genocide I hated so much. It was the most beautiful sound I ever heard..._

_Love of mine_

_Someday you will die_

_But I'll be close behind_

_I'll follow you_

_Into the dark_

I stopped moving. It was all I could do to stay standing. Soon I won't have the strength to do even that. If I wanted to say any last words, I'd better choose quickly...

_No blinding light_

_Or tunnels to gates of white_

_Just our hands clasped so tight_

_Waiting for_

_The hint of a spark_

_If Heaven and Hell decide_

_That they both are satisfied_

_Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs_

_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks_

_Then I'll follow you into the dark_

_Hell with it,_ I thought, smirking at my transfixed audience. With the last of my strength I raised my left hand, extending my thumb and forefinger into a gun-shape and simply said, "Bang."

_In Catholic school_

_As vicious as Roman rule_

_I got my knuckles bruised_

_By a lady in black_

_And I held my tongue,_

_As she told me, "Son,_

_Fear is the heart of love"_

_So I never went back_

_If Heaven and Hell decide_

_That they both are satisfied_

_Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs_

_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks_

_Then I'll follow you into the dark_

I fall forward onto the steps, my injured legs finally giving out.

_I see Julia, gazing up at me with those blue eyes that never let me go, as I cradled her close. The life was leaving her. I could feel her body growing colder. "It's all..." she said weakly. "Just...a dream..."_

"_Yeah..." I agreed. _

_And the rain fell._

_You and me_

_Have seen everything to see_

_From Bangkok to Calgary_

_And the soles of your shoes_

_Are all worn down_

I'm tired.

So tired...

_The time for sleep is now_

_It's nothing to cry about_

'_Cause we'll hold each other soon_

_In the blackest of rooms_

Dark everywhere.

No ruined syndicate building.

None of Vicious' thugs standing around with their thumbs up their asses.

Just me.

So this is Death. Not quite what I was expecting though I never really bought into that whole pearly gate shtick. Reincarnation was a little sketchy too. Besides, I hate animals.

I waited. Partly because there was nothing else for a dead man to do, but also because I was expecting someone.

"Spike."

I turned toward the contralto voice and found Julia standing behind me. She wasn't wearing leather like she did when she died. She was in that green dress with the white apron she wore when she sang for me for the first time. The dress she wore as I fell in love with her eyes, her voice, and her.

"You waited for me," I grinned.

"Took you long enough," she scolded smilingly.

"Sorry, I had to take care of a few things."

"Any regrets?"

I hesitated, thinking about the last meal I shared with Jet; the pinwheel that Ed gave me before she jumped ship with Ein; and the green-eyed woman I had left in tears...

"Not a one," I smirk.

Julia sighed, "Don't lie."

Then she embraced me. I wrapped my arms around her and drank in her scent. Hakubaiko. Her favorite perfume.

"You liked her, didn't you?" she asked after a few moments.

I couldn't find the words to respond.

"It's alright," Julia whispered. "I liked her too."

"What happens now?" I asked.

"Does it matter?"

I shrugged. "Not really. Just seemed like the right thing to ask at a time like this."

She regarded me for a moment or two before asking, "That song...would you sing for me?"

"You know I hate singing."

"Please?" she pouted. "Just a little? For me?"

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed.

"_If Heaven and Hell decide_," I sang softly. "_That they both are satisfied_."

"_Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs_," lilted Julia, lending her contralto voice to our song.

"_If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark_."

We gazed into one another's eyes in silence before Julia finally grinned, "You sing off key."

I returned the grin. "I know."

With nothing more to say, I took her hand and mine and we walked side by side into the dark.

_Then I'll follow you into the dark..._

_**See ya Spce Cowboy...**_

**Hope you all caught that crack I had Spike make about Keanu Reeves. Hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing. As always, R/R. Shibui out!**


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